


Born To Be Wild

by APerfectGrace



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baby!Cas, Deaged!Cas, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2015-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-13 05:14:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2138331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APerfectGrace/pseuds/APerfectGrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With his large, blue eyes, fluffy hair, and tiny wings, Castiel seems to be the epitome of 'perfect little angel'.  Of course, appearances can be rather deceiving. </p><p>Series of Baby!Cas ficlets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bent

**Author's Note:**

> I have this head canon that Baby Angel Castiel is the biggest little shit ever.
> 
> Two different works in one day? I must be having an aneurysm. Madness.
> 
> This will probably end up being little short ficlets on Baby!Cas. 'Cause I love him.

“Castiel.”

A plump bottom lip wobbled precariously.

“ _Castiel_.”

The lip was sucked in between small, white teeth.

“Castiel, _look at me_.”

Large, round, impossibly blue eyes slowly blinked up towards Raphael, who was looking down at him grimly, arms crossed. “Do you know what you did wrong?”

Castiel blinked up at the archangel, shaking his head.

“You knocked over the Tower of Pisa.”

Tiny, dark eyebrows furrowed over those luminous eyes. “P’zza?”

“No,” Raphael sighed, rubbing his forehead with a hand. “ _Pisa_. Italy. The tower. You moved it.”

“Oh.”

“It’s supposed to be straight. It’s now leaning to one side. Because of you. Because you were careless with your grace.”

“G’ace…” the little angel murmured to himself, nodding solemnly.

Raphael stared him down. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Castiel remained silent, shuffling on his little feet, his wings fluttering nervously.

“Castiel, I asked you a question.”

The tiny angel squinted, thinking hard. A pink tongue darted out of his mouth in concentration. After a moment, he brightened. “Caulit leanin’ tower o’ p’zza!”

Raphael swore out aloud.

Castiel gasped, a loud, dramatic inhale of breath. “’Fanity not ‘loud, ‘Fael!”

Raphael rubbed a hand over his mouth, counting silently to ten.


	2. Sandman

“Whatcha doin’?”

Gabriel flew over to where Castiel was half-buried in the sand that curved around the edge of the sea.

The little angel’s face was set in an expression of intense concentration while he made a sand structure that looked a lot like the Taj Mahal.

“San’castle,” Castiel murmured, distracted.

He ran his chubby hands across one of the towers, making a small noise of content when it moulded into the shape he wanted. His wings flickered excitedly.

“You got sand all over you, Cas,” Gabriel commented, plonking himself down opposite his friend.

“I know,” Castiel said, brushing a sandy lock of hair away from his eyes.

Gabriel cocked his head to the side, eyes focused on how Castiel was shaping the curve of the Taj Mahal’s dome. An idea came to him, making him grin. All of a sudden, he pushed the roof of it, making it crumple and land into Castiel’s lap. A small cry left his mouth as Gabriel started to laugh, making his fists ball tightly in anger.

Castiel glared at him, eyes narrowed.

After a second, he glanced at one of the pebbles nestled softly into the sand, and his eyes sparked with a flash of neon blue. The pebble rose slowly, before zinging towards –

“ _Ow!_ ”

Castiel grinned, turning back to pat down his sandcastle.


	3. Dicky Dean

Sam was holed up in the library, flicking through one of those dust-covered journals left behind by the Men of Letters when a blur of tan and black suddenly flashed across his vision, instantly breaking his concentration.

Looking up and frowning, he was faced with an empty room.

He quickly scanned the area before shrugging it off as a trick of the light and diving back into his book once more.

Approximately seven seconds later, a second flash of tan and black whizzed past, this time accompanied by what sounded like a tiny giggle.

He raised his head slowly, accompanied by an arched eyebrow.

He was sure he had seen something that time.

He barely had time to check the room when he saw it again, and this time there was a definite bubble of laughter.

“What the –”

“ _God damn it, Cas!_ Get back here!”

Sam’s vision suddenly filled with an out of breath, exasperated Dean chasing after a tiny, butt naked Castiel, his little feet pattering on the cold stone as his excited laughter filled the halls. His wings were out and fluttering with his delight, comically juxtaposed with the taut, grim look on Dean’s long-suffering face as the baby angel evaded his reaching hands.

“Castiel! Get back here and put some pants on or so help me God, I will send you back to Heaven in _pieces!”_

Sam couldn’t help the sound that escaped his mouth at the hilarious sight of his 6’2 pissed off brother breathlessly chasing a miniature, hyperactive, shrieking ball of feathers.

The noise attracted Dean’s attention, who stopped and turned to face him angrily.

“Sam! Stop laughing like an asshole and help me!”

He waved his hands placidly, shaking his head. “It’s all you, man.”

A high pitched scream of pleasure echoed from down the corridor, and Dean’s head abruptly turned to the source of the noise. “Cas, for the love of – _put that down!_ ”

A tiny noise of contempt travelled down the hallway. “ _No!_ ”

The muscle in his jaw tensed as he gritted his teeth. “Cas, stop being a dick and put some damn clothes on.”

“ _You_ dick! Dick Dean! Dean dick dick Dean dicky Dean!”

He coloured a brilliant shade of purple, having never been confronted with such sass from someone less than three feet tall. “Why, you _little_ –”

“Dean,” Sam broke in, knowing where this was headed and trying to keep the peace before Dean had an aneurysm. “He’s just a kid. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“The hell he doesn’t!” his brother said vehemently, still catching his breath against the side of the door frame. “He’s been running around naked for thirty five minutes, keeps trying to – Cas, I said _no!_ – trying to stuff shit in his mouth and now he’s working on my _very last nerve_.”

All of a sudden, a small figure appeared in the doorway, looking up innocently at a heavy-breathing Dean, who was clearly regretting his lifestyle of burgers and pie when it came to chasing an overly-enthusiastic, miniature angel of the Lord.

“He’s so annoying,” he contemplated after a moment. “And fast.”

The angel’s mouth quirked into a shit-eating grin that would not be lost on the adult Castiel’s face.

“You need to hurry and grow back up, Cas,” Dean said lowly, staring down at him.

Cas blew a raspberry up at him.

He turned to look at a smirking Sam. “You see?”

Sam held his hands up in defence. “Not getting involved.”

“Cas, you’re naked.” Dean stated down to the baby angel in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Yes,” Cas giggled, pirouetting on the spot. “Nekkid.”

“You need to put some clothes on.”

He twirled about gracefully, rubbing his nose with the tip of a wing. “Don’t wanna.”

“Well it ain’t about what you want,” Dean bit back. “It’s about doing what’s best for everyone, and what’s best for everyone is putting your junk away.”

“No!” Cas stopped moving and stamped his foot impatiently, his wings quivering. “I wanna be nekkid!”

Sam was struggling to keep composed so much that he felt like his head was about to explode from trying to keep it all in.

Dean rubbed his temple, irritated. “Cas, either you put your clothes on, or I will _make_ you.”

At this, a truly evil smirk broke out onto his cute little face, and the Winchesters were suddenly reminded of sassy adult Castiel. Obviously, it was a trait he had learned from a very early age. “Make me. _Dicky Dean_.”

 

 


	4. Marshmallow Fluff

Balthazar and Gabriel were playing on a cumulus cloud when they suddenly spotted black wings and dark, tufty hair nestled precariously in the cloud one level below them.

It didn’t take a genius to work out who it was.

“Castiel?” Balthazar called out tentatively, cocking his head to the side.

Blue eyes peeked out from the white fluff. “Hi, Bal’zar. Hi, Gabriel.”

“Are you hidin’ again?” Gabriel queried curiously, leaning down from his cloud to look down at his brother.

“Uh-huh.”

“What did you do this time?” Balthazar peeked over the edge too, seeing his brother half-hidden by the pearly wisps of cloud.

“Nothin’.”

“ _CASTIEL!_ ” A huge, angry roar instantly thundered through the entire heavens, startling the three angel boys so much that Balthazar’s wings went rigid and Gabriel fell off his cloud in shock, tumbling right into Castiel’s cloud with an undignified yelp. “WHERE ARE YOU?”

“Cas, what did you _do?_ ” Balthazar whispered with wide eyes, his wings beginning to tremble.

“Made a g’eat big blue hole.”

“ _Where?_ ” Gabriel prompted, sitting upright next to him and shaking the marshmallowy fluff out of his hair.

“Off’a coast of Belize.”

“CASTIIIIEEEELLLL!”

Castiel shook violently and sunk further into his cloud, disappearing from sight completely. Balthazar and Gabriel looked at each other, fear written across their faces.


	5. Cookies & Scream

“What the – _holy shit_ ,” Dean breathed, coming to an abrupt halt in the doorway of the bunker’s kitchen, eyes widening comically as he took in the scene before him.

Chairs had been overturned. Pots and pans were strewn across the room. The fridge was hanging wide open and something orange was leaking out of it onto the floor, making a lovely, large puddle. A smell of burnt chicken wafted in the air. Broken glass littered the counter, and Sam’s favourite coffee mug had been smashed to pieces. There was broccoli sticking out of the cutlery drawer, and a knife was actually stuck _in_ the ceiling. A weird sticky substance that Dean really didn’t want to think about was smeared across the far wall, and throughout the entire kitchen were tiny, tiny handprints that looked a lot like –

“Cas!”

Dean’s gaze landed on the dark-haired, little angel in the middle of the kitchen floor, sitting with his back to him cross-legged, wings all puffy and fluffed out. He looked like he was bent over something, but from this vantage point Dean couldn’t be a hundred percent sure.

At the mention of his name, Castiel’s head whipped up. He cautiously looked over his shoulder, saw who it was, and _grinned_.

Dean took in the smeared lips, the straining cheeks quite clearly full of something and the crumbs on his little face.

Castiel was gorging himself on something, something that made his cheeks puff out like a gerbil’s. Most likely, it was something that he should not be eating at his age. Well, his _physical_ age, his mental age was a different story.

Castiel was a man-child; he just now had the body to prove it. Regardless, if he didn't want his teeth to rot out of his head, he needed to eat healthily. He might have been an angel, but his grace wasn't fully matured, and he needed to eat right until he could fend for himself (which was ironic, coming from Dean).

However, he had a feeling that it wasn't kale that Castiel was munching on...

“Cas! What… What the hell? What did you do – what are you eating?”

At this, Castiel shifted round to fully face him, and Dean’s eyes lowered to the blue, ceramic pot in the clutches of his small, sticky hands.

“‘ookie?” Castiel asked, spraying chocolate everywhere.

Dean resisted the urge to collapse onto the floor and have a tantrum, like Castiel was probably going to do in approximately seven seconds.

“Not unless there’s alcohol in it,” he muttered under his breath, entering the room.

He smoothed his expression out, careful not to show any signs of anger or annoyance as he slowly walked over to Castiel, who watched him with acute interest. His eyes lowered to the cookie jar.

“Cas,” he began innocently, trying to keep the peace.

Blue eyes blinked, then narrowed dangerously.

Fuck.


	6. Shut Your Whore Mouth

In his defence, Dean _forgot_.

Dean _forgot_ that children were more observant than they appeared to be.

Dean _forgot_ that children had a tendency to copy things that adults said or did.

So, it never occurred to him that, when he noticed a curvaceous red-headed woman in the supermarket and made a slightly inappropriate comment to himself about her, that it would come back to bite him in the ass later.

They were at the checkout.

Dean had Cas sitting in the crook of his arm (because apparently he was a stubborn little _shit_ and would throw the mother of all tantrums if he wasn’t held, and to be perfectly honest it was much easier to just do it than to argue because _no one_ had the head for that kind of demonic screaming _ever_ ), while Sam was unpacking the groceries onto the conveyor belt.

Cas was happily crooning to himself whilst Dean was talking quietly to Sam, until he noticed something a few feet in front of him that made him stop and stare.

It was the red-headed woman from earlier.

He susurrated thoughtfully, eyes firmly fixated.

She, having heard him, turned around to face him, a smile growing on her face at the cute little boy looking up at her.

“Hello, sweetie,” she said to Castiel, who was still blinking up at her.

Dean, having heard this exchange, turned his head to look at her, his mouth curving at the sight of her.

“The name’s Dean actually,” he offered with a wink, making her chuckle. Score.

Behind him Sam was rolling his eyes.

“Corinne,” she replied, batting her eyelashes at Dean, before dropping back down to Castiel. “And who is this handsome little guy?”

“This is Cas.” Oh _yeah_ , he was _totally_ gonna play on the single dad routine. “Don’t be rude, bud, say hi.”

“Hi Cas,” Corinne said sweetly.

“Whore,” Cas murmured back quietly, a smile on his face.

Corinne froze. Dean froze. Sam, who had been unpacking apples, froze.

They were _sure_ that they didn’t just hear that right. There was _no way_ that Cas just said –

“Whore,” he repeated, crystal clear.

“Um,” Corinne said, looking up at Dean, who was beginning to turn a magnificent shade of purple.

“Cas, buddy,” Sam interjected with embarrassment, “you shouldn’t say that word.”

“Whore,” he echoed, louder.

“Where did you learn that word?” Dean demanded, having found his tongue.

“Smack my ass!”

Oh. My. _God_.

Dean started choking on his own spit, eyes practically popping out in horror, Sam was colouring as red as the apples, and Corinne was staring at them in a mixture of disgust and disbelief. “Don’t say those anymore, Cas! Those are bad!”

“Whore!” Cas shouted with glee, obviously thinking it was some kind of game. “Smack my ass! Whore!”

“ _Cas!_ ”

Oh god, people were actually turning around to _stare_.

“Smack my ass!”

“Okay, let’s go,” Dean stammered, clapping a hand over Cas’s mouth and gesturing to Sam, who was already abandoning their groceries and speeding towards the exit.

“Sorry, he’s uh… sorry!” he apologised furiously, before whisking Cas away and running away before his head exploded with shame.

“WHORE!”


End file.
